As it was, I had barely time to draw back, as I turned a corner upon them; and if their lanthorn had been in its place, they could scarce have failed to descry me, unless indeed I had seen the gleam before I turned the corner.
There seemed to be only two of them, of size indeed and stature as all the Doones must be, but I need not have feared to encounter them both, had they been unarmed, as I was.

It was plain, however, that each had a long and heavy carbine, not in his hands (as it should have been), but standing close beside him.

Therefore it behoved me now to be exceedingly careful, and even that might scarce avail, without luck in proportion.
So I kept well back at the corner, and laid one cheek to the rock face, and kept my outer eye round the jut, in the wariest mode I could compass, watching my opportunity: and this is what I saw.
The two villains looked very happy--which villains have no right to be, but often are, meseemeth--they were sitting in a niche of rock, with the lanthorn in the corner, quaffing something from glass measures, and playing at push-pin, or shepherd's chess, or basset; or some trivial game of that sort.

Each was smoking a long clay pipe, quite of new London shape, I could see, for the shadow was thrown out clearly; and each would laugh from time to time, as he fancied he got the better of it.

One was sitting with his knees up, and left hand on his thigh; and this one had his back to me, and seemed to be the stouter.